


The Vices Kept Close To Our Vests

by thehedonistspurge



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop, Canon Compliant, Crowley’s Eyes Appreciation, Crowley’s Snake Form Appreciation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Love, Romantic love, Sweet Crowley (Good Omens), You Decide, or - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 02:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19416595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehedonistspurge/pseuds/thehedonistspurge
Summary: Crowley would think that he for one, would have figured out all of his vices by now. Well, apparently he hasn’t. At least not the vices pertaining to Aziraphale.Or the one where Crowley goes so long without reverting to his snake form that he turns at the most inopportune time.





	The Vices Kept Close To Our Vests

**Author's Note:**

> I saw (in passing) a fan art by sidetrek on tumblr of Aziraphale and Crowley in snake form cuddling on a couch together and I was like, “I NEED TO FIC THIS!”

Crowley ever since establishing a relationship with Aziraphale, has spent less and less time in his snake form. He doesn’t quite miss it because he can’t talk to Aziraphale in that form. If only Aziraphale understood all of his hissing, then, he wouldn’t mind reverting back more often than not. Not to mention, a snake can hardly drive a Bentley.

When he turned into a snake, he understood Aziraphale just fine, the vibration of his angel’s voice was just as exquisite to hear and feel. Aziraphale’s scent was stronger too. He liked tasting it in the air, that signature divine grace.

It’s just that if would be nice, wouldn’t it? Crowley didn’t know for sure about Aziraphale’s stance on his snake form. He knew about how Aziraphale felt about his eyes. Crowley had it burned into, engraved in his memory just like every other interaction he has had with him.

Crowley was perusing one of Aziraphale’s many bookcases. His finger hovering over the spines of the books. _Shakespeare, yadda, yadda, Edgar Allan Poe, yadda, yadda-_

“Have I ever told you how I felt about your eyes, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked softly with his eyes buried in some first edition.

Crowley whipped around so fast, he felt the world spin for a fraction of a second. _What prompted this? Did Aziraphale not like his real eyes?_

Aziraphale looked at Crowley with a small secretive grin. Aziraphale could never keep a secret from him or anyone. Aziraphale moved from his chair, leaving his book open on the table.

“Humans always compliment the eyes of their loved ones,” Aziraphale offered as an explanation.

Crowley has heard of this odd tradition. He’s heard of ballads, poetry and epics recited describing the eyes of some visually pleasing humans across the years in all manner of languages. All Crowley could do in reply was to cock an eyebrow and hoping it didn’t betray the tumultuous feelings brewing within him.

Aziraphale walked toward Crowley. “I know that you have complimented mine. But I have never said anything about yours.”

Crowley could only nod. He could say something witty or on-brand as Adam called it but he didn’t want to disrupt Aziraphale little speech. He wanted to know where it was headed.

Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s face as he stood right in front of him. “I have made a gross oversight, Crowley. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Crowley found his voice then, saying, “There is nothing to forgive, angel.” He paused before continuing, “I’m not sure it’s actually possible for you to do evil. Or anything that requires an apology.” This time he wasn’t saying it sarcastically, he truly meant it.

Aziraphale removed Crowley’s sunglasses, folding and placing them on the bookcase. He was met with his yellow snake eyes, all reptilian and lovely. “Crowley, they are perfect.”

“Perfect for my form, you mean? Befitting it?” Crowley asked, reaching for his sunglasses, feeling too exposed and open for an attack.

“No, Crowley. I didn’t mean it like that.” Aziraphale sighed like he was dealing with a child. He caught Crowley’s hand and held it. “You have eyes that I have never seen before and I am sure that I will never see another pair like it. It is _perfect_ because I have never met another being like you.”

Aziraphale coughed, a blush creeping up his neck. “And I don’t think that there will be anyone else like you, Crowley.”

“Angel,” was all Crowley could say. He was confused, relieved and falling further in love. _Who said demons didn’t know love?_

“Never hide from me, Crowley. We have already been running and hiding for so long.”

  
Now, back to the snake form issue. See, Crowley had been replaying that little scene in his mind so many times, analysing and overanalysing the last part Aziraphale’s speech.

It echoed in his head. “Never hide from me, Crowley. We have already been running and hiding for so long.”

Surely, Aziraphale was speaking only about his eyes, right? Not his other form. Or was he speaking about him as a whole package with the wings, wickedness and devilish wiles?

It was a lot to hope that Aziraphale liked all of him. Even Crowley wasn’t sure if he liked every part of himself. Crowley rubbed the bridge of his nose. Now he was definitely overthinking. He would just hold out from reverting into a snake. He had helped stop the Apocalypse That Didn’t Go Quite As Planned. _How hard could it be?_

  
Drinking was a vice Crowley shared with Aziraphale. It was one of the few vices they indulged fairly often and together. Crowley found himself reaching for the bottle instead of a glass more than once. He put it down when Aziraphale tutted him with an accompanying reproachful look. Aziraphale took the bottle and filled up their glasses.

“It’s just that I should have picked up more vinyl, Crowley. I have broken four of them in the last 200 years,” Aziraphale said, sniffing as he thought of the most recent vinyl he put in recycling. He leaned back on the couch he was sitting on.

Crowley on a chair facing Aziraphale, scrunched up his nose. “I don’t think they’ve been around that long,” he said.

Aziraphale gulped down the rest of the wine in his glass. He looked awfully depressed at Crowley’s remark.

Crowley threw his head back dramatically, thinking to himself, ‘ _Why was he such a sucker for Aziraphale?_ ’ Crowley gazed at Aziraphale’s hair that caught the moonlight from the window.

He amended his previous statement, “I can't be so sure about when vinyls were created.”

Aziraphale sniffed again. “They shouldn’t be so fragile! God knows how clumsy I am…” He turned away from Crowley, dabbing his cheeks with a handkerchief.

“You’re quite strong, Azir’phale. It wasn’t made for beings like us. Everything’s fragile in this world,” Crowley spoke, pointing his index finger at Aziraphale, the lamp and the wine bottle trying to make his point.

Aziraphale had quieted considerably after his little outburst. He said, sounding a lot more sober than before, “I think we need to clear our heads, Crowley.”

Crowley, drunk as a skunk, was having none of it. “We could wait it out, angel. Just a few more hours and we will ‘turn to our normal, boring selves.”

Aziraphale stared bottle numbly. “That is an agreeable idea,” he said, stretching slightly before settling further down on the couch. He pulled his legs up and laid flat across the cushions.

Crowley watched lazily from his chair. He got up, swaying as he sauntered to the couch. “Make room, Azir’phale.”

“Crowley, leave me be,” Aziraphale muttered under his breath as he felt Crowley try to squeeze in. Aziraphale complained loudly, “You’re heavy. And too big.”

Despite this, neither moved, feeling far too lazy to attempt so. Crowley feeling a bit cramped, knew exactly how to fit into tiny places. Without a thought or a care, he curled around Aziraphale rather snuggly.

  
Crowley preferred warmth than any chill. He was feeling particularly sated when he slowly returned to consciousness. He tried to flex his arms but instead felt his entire being tense and relax. It didn’t matter because he was so, so comfortable.

His head was being petted and it felt nice, he curled a little tighter around his pillow. The scent was divine, it so strongly smelled of Aziraphale.

_Aziraphale…?_

He opened his eyes to see Aziraphale underneath him. With terrible bed hair, Aziraphale was rubbing circles under his chin.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale half-yawned his name.

He intended to say, “Good morning,” to Aziraphale but hissed instead. At that moment, he realised he was in his snake form. The horror he felt was sobering.

He slowly tried to pry himself from Aziraphale. _Because what was he doing?! He’d promised himself he’d stop with the snake business around Aziraphale-_

“Crowley, stop moving,” Aziraphale admonished him, touching his snout. “Stay like this, it’s rather comfortable.”

Crowley settled back down, his form curling around Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale took to petting Crowley’s head again, smiling indulgently.

“You have very pretty scales, Crowley,” Aziraphale commented. “They are very iridescent in the light.”

Crowley realised then, that he was a fool, an incredibly lovesick fool. He decided that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically my third fic about these two. I’m still ironing out the details for the second fic so I got this one out first.
> 
> Inspired by a fan art by sidetrek on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please drop a kudos or comment, I appreciate any feedback!


End file.
